


Ciri on Ice

by sleepyxcoffee



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Skating, F/F, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28587963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyxcoffee/pseuds/sleepyxcoffee
Summary: Ciri is the daughter of the pride of Redania and Kaedwen’s White Wolf, and the champion of Cintra.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Cerys an Craite, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	Ciri on Ice

Competitions were always thrilling. Ciri knew some skaters dreaded them, but she and Cerys thrived off them. There was just something about hearing the crowd go wild, the weight of the judges’ eyes, the pounding of her heart, which gave Ciri an incomparable rush.

That particular year, the World Championship was held in Cerys’ home country of Skellige, and Ciri found the air unbearably cold - something that amused her fathers to no end. “You’re a figure skater, Ciri, you should enjoy the cold,” Papa would say, while Dad sighed and shook his head and told her she’d be warmer if she had a proper coat.

While Worlds was always the highlight of her year, there was something even more exciting that time around. Ciri had been to Skellige before, of course, both during and off season, but this was the first time she was competing against her girlfriend on Cerys’ home turf, and it excited Ciri to no end. She could hardly stay still on the plane, bouncing nonstop, much to Dad’s chagrin.

“Ciri,” he groused as she kneed him for the third time in five minutes, “ _ stay still _ .”

“You can’t blame her, Geralt,” Papa scolded. “She’s seeing her girlfriend!” Dad groaned and buried his head in his arms. He  _ hated _ being reminded that Ciri had a girlfriend.

“Yeah, Dad,” Ciri added. “I haven’t seen Cerys since the Grand Prix Final in  _ December _ .”

“See, dear? Ciri has every right to be excited.” Dad rolled his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Jaskier.” Papa blew Dad a kiss, which made Ciri groan and plug in her earphones. She might be seventeen, but that did not mean she had grown any less disgusted by her parents’ public displays of affection.

Ciri and her fathers were greeted by the exuberant an Craites at Skellige International Airport. Ciri caught sight of Cerys’ distinctive red hair bobbing in a sea of people first, and she immediately abandoned her parents in favour of sprinting down the corridor and out the door, past a very surprised security guard. “Careful, Ciri!” Dad called. “You’ll sprain your ankle!”

Naturally, Ciri ignored him in favour of leaping into Cerys’ arms.

“Ciri!” Cerys exclaimed in delight, wrapping her arms around the taller skater.

“Cerys!” Ciri took a moment to bask in Cerys’ embrace, and then waved at Cerys’ family. Standing several feet away were Crach an Craite and Hjalmar an Craite - a renowned hockey coach and a rising player respectively, but, more importantly, Cerys’ father and brother. They waved back at Ciri, and Crach stepped around them to shake her fathers’ hands.

“Jaskier Pankratz and Geralt Rivia, as I live and breathe!” Crach boomed. Dad chuckled and clapped Crach on the shoulder.

“It’s been too long, Crach. I hope your Cerys is in top form - Ciri certainly is.”

Ciri whined and elbowed him. “Dad!”

“You are, Ciri, and there’s no point in hiding that,” Papa chipped in unhelpfully. Ciri only rolled her eyes and linked her arm with Cerys’.

“Will you take me to the skate rink?” Ciri asked quietly.

Cerys beamed at her. “It would be my pleasure, Ciri.”

Ciri felt her heart flutter, and her parents promptly ruined it by opening their mouths. “How’re your programs coming along, Cerys?” Dad asked, and the next five minutes delved into meaningless figure skating and ice hockey small talk that Ciri tried to, unsuccessfully, shut down several times before her parents and Crach finally decided there had been enough small talk, and deigned to ask the girls what their plans were.

“Can I go to the rink with Cerys?” Ciri asked, and it then delved into a ten minute discussion that went in circles about whether it was a good idea for Ciri to go gallivanting off two days before a competition, whether Dad and Papa were alright with bringing her bags, if Hjalmar would join, et cetera. Cerys rolled her eyes dramatically, making Ciri giggle.

Once Ciri had successfully shoved her luggage at her parents and promised them, five times, that she wouldn’t try any jumps, they finally allowed her to get on the train with Cerys and head to the skate rink.

“I’m not supervising these lovely ladies on their date,” Crach said, much to Ciri and Cerys’ mutual embarrassment.

“Promise you won’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Papa called at Ciri as she and Cerys skipped away from their families. Crach had kindly offered to drive the Rivia-Pankratzes to their hotel, and Hjalmar was tagging along to be dropped off at his friend Skjall’s along the way (who, coincidentally, Ciri had gone on one date with before they mutually agreed they were better off seeing other people).

“There’s not much that falls under that umbrella,” Ciri shot back. Dad chuckled as Papa spluttered in horror. Before they could say anything else, Ciri grabbed Cerys’ arm, and they ran off to the station, giggling.

“Your parents are nice,” Cerys said to Ciri as they stood on the platform awaiting their train. Their hands were linked, and Cerys was tucked comfortably against Ciri’s side.

“Mhm. Gets a bit hard sometimes, though, being the daughter of figure skating’s power couple.”

Cerys hummed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Ciri’s hair. “I can imagine. Both gold medal Olympians with more world titles combined than I have fingers.”

Ciri nodded, burying her face in Cerys’ soft red hair. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be as great as them,” she admitted. “Everyone expects me to be just as great as they are. You know, my uncles Eskel and Lambert stopped hoping for first place once Dad and Papa really got going. They started vying for silver instead.” Cerys chuckled.

“Really? Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re just as good as they are.” Blushing, Ciri turned her head away. Cerys laughed and reached up to cup her cheek, turning her face back at her. “Hey, you are! Maybe your scores aren’t as high as theirs, but that’s the ladies’ skate for you. Besides, you’re the free skate world record holder, and that’s nothing to laugh at.”

There was nothing but admiration in Cerys’ voice - not even the slightest hint of envy. On ice, Ciri and Cerys may have been rivals, but off it they were girlfriends, nothing more. Cerys was far too good of a sport to let their careers leak into their personal lives.

“You say that like you’re not the only lady to have ever landed a quad Lutz in competition,” Ciri said good-naturedly. It was Cerys’ signature jump - ever since she had first landed it in her first year as a senior skater, she had managed to incorporate it into every single one of her skates since.

It was Cerys’ turn to blush. “Look, there’s our train,” she said. Moving away from Ciri, she kept hold of her hand and guided her onto the train. It was packed full - with Worlds only two days away, the small city of Kaer Trolde on Ard Skellig was full of skaters, their entourages, and sports fans alike.

“Look, it’s Rivia and an Craite,” someone on the train whispered. Embarrassed, Ciri turned her head and put up the hood of her coat. She wormed her hand out of Cerys’, who looked crestfallen for a moment before putting up her own hood. They stood there in awkward silence until the train reached their stop, and then Cerys tapped Ciri’s hand lightly to let Ciri know it was time to get off the train.

Skating with Cerys was always fun. Even though neither was allowed to jump without supervision, they sped around the rink, spinning and practising step sequences. Cerys made the mistake of challenging Ciri to see who could perform a faster shoot-the-duck spin - she fell over after trying to outpace Ciri. While Cerys’ jumps were admired by judges for their height and form, Ciri was known for her spins.

Cerys skated up to Ciri and threw her arms around her shoulders. Laughing, Ciri returned Cerys’ hug, and they allowed themselves to skate in small circles, wrapped up in each other. Ciri let herself sink into Cerys’ warm, comforting scent, and closed her eyes. It was as though nothing else mattered.

Then she heard one of Cerys’ rinkmates’ voice. “Hey, who’s that with Cerys?” he said.

“I know that hair - is that Cirilla Rivia?” Stiffening, Ciri pulled back and turned away. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Cerys’ expression fall.

“We should go,” Ciri said awkwardly, skating to the gate. “My dads will want me back.”

“Alright,” Cerys said quietly. It broke something in Ciri to hear Cerys sound so fallen - she was meant to be bright and warm and full of energy. Ciri took the thought and forcibly shoved it away. She was Ciri Rivia, daughter of the pride of Redania and Kaedwen’s White Wolf. She was Cintra’s champion, and she was stronger than this.

***

“Papa,” Ciri said to her father later that night, “how did you and Dad do it?”

“Do what, sweetheart? You’re going to have to be more specific,” Papa said as he plaited her hair.

Ciri gestured broadly. “Do all… this. Dating, while figure skating. You were rivals. Didn’t people talk?”

“Of course they did, but that’s what people do,” Papa replied. He produced a scrunchie from his pocket and tied off her fishtail braid. “There you go.”

“Trouble in paradise?” came Dad’s rumbling voice. He was leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, hair twisted in a towel and dressed in light grey pyjamas. Whenever Papa and Dad fought, all Papa had to do was threaten to post a picture of Dad after his showers to Instagram, and Dad would be on his knees begging for forgiveness.

“\It seems so,” Papa said lightly.

Dad walked over to his family and sat on the bed next to Ciri, wrapping an arm around her. Papa cleared his throat, and, stifling a smile, Dad placed a kiss on his cheek with a smile. Ciri pretended to gag.

“What’s going on, Ciri?” Dad asked.

Ciri shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s just… well, when people see me and Cerys, they talk. ‘Isn’t that Rivia and an Craite?’, they say.”

Papa bristled. “Who’s been talking about my daughter? Let me at them!” he cried overdramatically. Dad rolled his eyes.

“Ignore your Papa. People will talk, Ciri, and there’s nothing you can do about that. What you can do, on the other hand, is lift yourself up. Don’t listen to them,” Dad said.

“But I did,” Ciri groaned. “And I think I hurt Cerys, because she probably thinks I’m ashamed of her now.”

“Change one of your jumps to her quad Lutz,” Papa said jokingly. “It’s how your Dad proposed to be - by changing his last jump to a quad flip.” Ciri groaned. Now  _ that _ was a story Ciri had heard far too many times.

“Don’t encourage her,” Dad admonished, but Papa’s words set Ciri thinking. She had never landed a quad lutz before, and she didn’t want to try in competition. Changing her double axel to a triple lutz, on the other hand…

Ciri didn’t see Cerys all of the next day - they had booked the rink at different times, and what time they spent  _ not _ skating, their coaches (and fathers) filled with pre-competition exercises. Dad was a firm believer in hard work, and it showed. Ciri managed to send all of one Snapchat to Cerys, and Cerys managed to send one back.

They spent supper with their respective clubs. Dad and the other coaches for the Cintran team spent half an hour debating whether a steakhouse or barbecue was more suitable for the supper before the short program, ignoring Ciri and Dara’s protests that they were more or less the same thing.

“Let him,” Papa advised in an amused tone. “It’s how he works off his jitters.”

“He’s not even competing and he’s more nervous than I am,” Ciri grumbled. Next to her, Dara continued to pace in circles, muttering his entire skate program. While Ciri was blessed with nerves of steel, Dara was not.

“Triple Axel, double toe loop - Ciri, what if I over rotate - combination spin - maybe I should have left out the Biellmann - it’s not like most men do it after all -”

“Dara,” Ciri said, a hint of irritation bleeding into her voice, “calm down.” Dara shot her a glare, but stopped speaking. “You’ll be  _ fine _ .”

“Easy for you to say,” Dara mumbled. “You’re the champion of Cintra. I’m just another figure skater.”

Ciri frowned. “You’re not just another figure skater. If you were, you wouldn’t be at Worlds,” she pointed out.

In front of her, Dad and the other coaches finally finished their squabbling and broke away. “Listen up, kids,” Dad announced, and the ten or so skaters who had come with them put down their phones to face him. “Steakhouse it is. Now, you know the rules - nothing less than a medium rare - we don’t want any upset stomachs before Worlds - nothing you haven’t tried before, especially you, ladies, since you’re in tomorrow - we don’t want a repeat of the Rostelecom Cup incident -” at this, Rosa Attre cringed, and her coach Mousesack gave her a sympathetic look.

Dad continued to list off his various terms and conditions, ending with, “and if a single one of you breaks these, it’s back to the hotel with bread and tomato soup for you all.” Only then did he finally allow the increasingly antsy congregation of skaters in the hotel lobby to bundle up in their coats and walk out the front door. Dad and Mousesack took the lead, discussing how quads were destroying young skaters’ knees, while Papa and some other adults made up the back of their little party.

Ciri’s phone pinged with a notification, and she opened it to see a Snap from Cerys. She tapped on it, and Cerys’s face popped up on the screen. She was standing next to Hjalmar, and in the background was Birna Bran arguing with a red-faced Lugos Drummond. Both an Craites looked distinctly bored.

_ birna and lugos can’t decide where to take the team for dinner _ , said Cerys’ message. A few moments later, another message came through. This time it was just Hjalmar, looking mock-annoyed while Cerys grasped for her phone behind him.

_ Shouldve stayed w the hockey team _ , the picture was captioned. Ciri muffled a smile behind her scarf. She took a selfie and sent it to Cerys.

_ we’re having steak for dinner!! _ she wrote.

“Ciri,” Papa called. “Get off your phone!”

Scowling, Ciri tucked her phone into her coat pocket. “Yes, Papa,” she shouted back.

It was a shame she wouldn’t get to see Cerys, but at least she would meet her on the ice the next day. Besides, considering Worlds was the last major competition of the season before the World Team Trophy in April, Dad and Papa had agreed to let her stay with the an Craites for a few days after.

Unfortunately, between warmups and assignments, Ciri quickly realised she wouldn’t get a chance to talk to Cerys until after both their short programs, much to her annoyance. At least she would be the first to skate - Ciri hated skating last. She moved through life like a whirlwind, and she preferred to skate while her nerves were still running high.

As Ciri stepped out of the waiting room, she made eye contact with Cerys, who gave her a cheery little wave. Ciri’s resolve hardened - for Cerys, she’d try the Lutz.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on writing more fics within this verse, but I don't have any concrete plans yet.
> 
> Also, how is Ciri the daughter of a Redanian and Kaedwenian, but a Cintran skater, I hear you ask? The answer is that I have no idea myself.


End file.
